Seven, Burke, PFC Schultz and the upper deck trooper, a specialist named Lee, left their wounded allies in the care of the Army medics tending to numerous troopers in the bunker and headed back outside. An emergency medical wing was located on the second floor of the base above, but the only way up to the base was by elevator. It would take at least a few trips to get all the wounded up there, and they were most likely safer down here anyways. Adding to that sentiment, the radio reports coming in explained that the Covenant had managed to break in through the roof. Seven had of course offered to assist, but Carter told him to stay on the entrance.

Your call, Commander.

He'd been in Carter's position before. Every one had a job to do, each piece had a role to play. For now, he and Burke were needed on guard duty, to let no one past while Carter sorted things out upstairs.

"I take it there weren't many covies to push back," Seven commented as Jun, Jorge, Emile, and Whiskey-One were exiting the Falcon.

"Oh, there were. Things tend to move by a little faster when you use one of these," Jorge replied lifting his chain gun, Etilka.

He nodded back towards the Spartan IIIs and ODSTs following behind him and said, "Or if you have these guys watching your back."

"Need help here?" Emile offered.

"Nah, we've got it covered. Carter could probably use some help though. They're getting hit pretty bad up there," Seven told him.

"Say no more," Jun said. "The calvary has arrived."

And with that, Jun, Jorge, and Emile headed into the bunker. None of the ODSTs moved.

Their team leader, Warren, spoke up, "With all due respect Spartan, we're going to hang back. We saw you carrying those soldiers in. I know you can use the numbers."

Seven appreciated the notion, but was unsure if he needed any more non-Spartans out here with what had just happened. If they ended up in a similar or worse position, he'd feel as though it was his fault. The choice was made before he could even respond, as the ODST captain wasn't taking 'no' for an answer.

"Alright people, spread out. Daniel, I want your eyes up high," Warren announced.

"Way ahead of you," an ODST holding his own sniper rifle confirmed as he jogged up a ramp to the second level.

Everyone else was either sweeping for ammo or taking up their own firing positions for the next fight. Many of the concrete barricades that were set up before the first wave were either damaged or destroyed, and so needed to be replaced. The titanium combat barriers on the other hand, hadn't toppled under the bombardment of grenades, bullets, or plasma fire.

Burke tossed Seven an extra pistol magazine he found, saying "Listen, I know what you're thinking. I've been there. But you can't le-"

"Aaugh!"

Everyone whirled around at the sudden outcry. What they saw would scar mentally scar each of them, an image that would forever stain their memories. PFC Schultz had a glowing white energy sword protruding from his chest. Its blue-clad owner was towering over him, looking around at all the Spartans and ODSTs. At first it seemed shocked, as though it knew it had made a terrible mistake, but five more Elites varying in rank each deactivated their camouflage. There were no words. Upon seeing this, everyone just raised their weapons and fired at will.

Specialist Lee was standing right there when it happened. Pure animalistic rage overtook him. Instead of wisely backing away, he engaged the murderous alien. Screaming threats and insults, he ran straight at the Elite with his finger glued to the trigger before personally slapping his foe with the heavy back end of his assault rifle. Seven saw the Elite's shields burst before it lashed out with a front kick that sent Specialist flying back. Seven dropped the with a single round to the head before it could finish the trooper off.

Seven had to redirect his focus. The other Elites rushing in all had energy swords out and needed to be prioritized. A little ways off to his left, Burke kept muttering, "Here we go, here we go," as he backpedaled and pulled out his shotgun. An Elite Major was coming at him and slashing like mad. Another approached Seven in a similar craze, but he couldn't just gun this one down. He'd used his last bullet to save Lee.

There wasn't time to reload. Instead, Seven unsheathed his serrated combat knife on his shoulder and the two briefly squared off. He was tense, ready, waiting for the first strike. His philosophy was that a good defense was the best offense, and in some way his enemies usually ended up hurting themselves. After they sized each other up, his foe snarled and sliced downward to cut him in half. Seven easily sidestepped him. The Elite grew irritated and followed the failed strike up with a backward spinning roundhouse, but Seven avoided that too. He ducked underneath the deadly hoof as it passed and dragged his knife across the Elite's back.

The Elite Major howled and struggled while the Spartan forcibly impaled the knife to the hilt in the top of his cranium. As Seven then used the knife handle like a lever to bring dead Elite to the ground, a shotgun blast grabbed at his attention. When he looked over, Burke was standing over a dead or dying Elite, shotgun barrel smoking.

Okay, he's good. Now what about...

Seven turned to the ODSTs. One was down, as well as two Elites. The third was trying desperately to Warren but taking far too much crossfire from his overprotective team. It fell dead at the ODST captain's feet. Never stood a chance. Second wave cleared, Seven hurried over to the downed ODST. Daniel, he thought this one's name was. A sparking sniper rifle lay in two neatly cut halves on the ground beside him, and a long gash in his chest plate was evidence of where an energy sword had seared through. Seven knelt down and helped him sit up.

"Are you alright?" Seven asked sincerely.

"...Yeah, I'm good. Remind me never to do that again."